Grandmother came and got me a few hours later. I expected it. Grandmother and Old Lily took care of the orphaned and soul bent children until they reached adulthood.

Grandmother dripped with pity when she scooped me into her strong arms. “Poor child—cast aside twice over for the circumstances of your birth.”

I struggled against her, but I was too weak and sore for it to have effect. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Hmmm.” Grandmother gazed down at me as her braided gray hair tickled my cheek. “We’ll see, child.”

She carried me through the camp, ignoring my protests and the stares of what seemed like all two hundred or so people in the tribe, until we reached her tent. It was dark brown and marked with an off white hand stitched above the doorway.

She flicked her chin in the direction of the hand. “I’d do my best not to bite the hand that’s willing to help you if you want to survive, child. Just a thought to keep in mind.”

Grandmother brought me into the tent and laid me down on a reed mat. “You’ll have to be patient for a proper bedroll. We weren’t expecting a new arrival.” I stared at the tent ceiling and ignored her. I wasn’t going to be taken in again so soon. She clicked her tongue. “So that’s how it’ll be, eh?”

She turned to a boy about my age whose foot bent an odd way and Old Lily, who had paused their basket weaving to watch. “She’s too good for us now that her mother doesn’t want her, apparently.”

I snapped, “I don’t have a mother.”

Grandmother raised her eyebrows at me. “That so?” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t want that woman as my daughter, much less my mother either.”

Old Lily shook her head. “She’s had a difficult time, sister, there’s no need to be crass.”

Grandmother waved away her words. “I’m too old to be anything but blunt. I’ll see you at the fire tonight with Raya and Gran. No doubt they’re bothering the fishing folk right now. If you think she needs coddling, I’ll leave that to you.”

She left the tent and I closed my eyes to avoid the boy’s and Old Lily’s glance. It didn’t take long for me to will myself to sleep. The priority now was to heal and start preparing for the Seedling Palace in my own way.

--

I was ready to crawl off my mat by the end of the first day just to get away from Old Lily’s cloying attempts at kindness and pity. I had no need for them. The children’s stares and prodding questions didn’t help either. I ignored them at first, but when that didn’t work I took a note from my upbringing and used my words to cut into their weaknesses. It was pathetically easy. They learned to avoid me after that. I tolerated Grandmother because she refused to mince her words.

She eyed me after my latest snap at Old Lily. Grandmother paused sewing the knee of a pair of pants back together to warn, “What did I say about the helping hand?”

I glared back her. “I can take care of myself.”

She scoffed, “You can barely move. Lily, just change her bandage. She won’t be able to stop you even if she does whine.”

Old Lily gave me an apologetic look and started to do as her sister said. “It won’t hurt, child.” I tried to pull my foot from her dry hands, but Old Lily kept it firmly in place. “Please don’t be difficult.”

I stopped fighting her because the soreness was still painful enough to make me grit my teeth every time I moved. And I had no desire for the wound to worsen again. I’d spent more than enough time on the edge of death. Old Lily was quick and efficient. It was odd to see someone else who wasn’t Mo—Levain attending to an injury, but bandages weren’t confined to the healer’s domain.

When her sister finished and left the tent to wash the dirty bandages in the lake, Grandmother tapped the side of her head to indicate where my healer’s beads hung by my face. “Are you going to renounce those now that you no longer have a mother?”

I could feel the weight of the four beads pulling lightly on my hair. A constant reminder of my heritage and permission to explore the possibilities hidden in plants and potions, salves and poultices. I could picture the four beads: berry red, ocre, moss green, and bone white; all uncarved because I hadn’t completed my apprenticeship. The smart thing to do was to cut them off and renounce the healer’s path. If I did that I would never be allowed to practice healing again, but the stigma of being a healer’s daughter would lessen. Cutting them off would increase my chances of rising through the ranks of the blessed. I had known that and she had know it, but they were mine and I liked learning about healing. Levain had tried to cut them off once while I slept; I’d woken when I felt something pulling on my hair and bitten her hand. She stopped trying then and instead redoubled my lessons about healing, because if I couldn’t do the smart thing then she wouldn’t accept anything less than my best.

“So?” Grandmother prompted as she made another even stitch.

“I don’t need her in order to keep them.”

“Perhaps not, but you can’t do much with them without a teacher.”

I scowled at her. “Then I’ll find another one. A better healer than her.”

Grandmother snorted. “Your mother is the best healer in the northwest. There’s a reason that young man came to her to save his tribe’s leader's son a couple weeks ago and that no one complains much about her extra fees.”

“Then I’ll find someone who isn’t in the northwest.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t know the first place to look. I doubt you even know where the tribe closest to ours is.”

I snapped, “There’s one across the river.”

“Not the closest. They’ve already continued on their run.” Grandmother fixed her gaze on me. “But let’s focus on them for a moment. Do you know if they have a healer? Would you know how to track them and what the best points are to meet them on their run if they did? Would you know what’s safe to gather and eat or how to hunt, or would you starve before you ever caught up with them? Do you know the safest routes to travel to avoid the bandit tribes or the worst predators?” She huffed. “You wouldn’t survive, child.”

“I’ve traveled before.”

“Oh, eh, to the procession with your mother. And she put you in charge of navigation? Supplies? Or did you toddle along in her wake?”

I gritted my teeth. “I don’t have a mother.”

She finished her row of of stitches and bit off her thread after tying it off. “That’s not an answer.”

“I had to focus on identifying everything with healing properties and recite what I saw to her at the end of the day.”

“And she always spotted more despite the other things she was doing?”

I refused to answer that.

Grandmother sighed. “The point, child, is that you aren’t helping yourself by keeping those beads, and nature isn’t so kind as to ignore a defenseless, ignorant child traveling alone. Being able to heal won’t do you much good if you don’t know how to survive in the first place.”

“Then I’ll learn—but I’m keeping my beads.” I refused to let Levain take everything from me just by walking away.

She considered me for a moment before nodding. “At least you aren’t a complete pride-blind idiot. I’ll introduce you to the huntresses once you’ve healed enough to walk on your own.”

--

The twins came to visit before I was well enough to avoid them. Grandmother brought them into the tent, commanded us to talk, and cleared everyone else out. I didn’t talk, just stared at them. We never had spent much quality time together, not after the procession, and when I had watched them before I had mostly sat back while they played. I told myself it was because I was too grownup to play in their childish games—I knew the truth was that I kept myself separate because Levain always hovered in between us. None of us wanted to displease her, but I always did, so the twins learned to keep their distance too.

Adley stepped forward and spoke first while Kem trailed anxiously behind. “Mother won’t tell us why you left and we missed you.”

I recoiled on my mat. “Why?”

Adley’s brows scrunched together. “Because your our sister.”

Kem piped up, “And Mother’s different now that you’re gone.”

Adley gave him a censuring look. “What Kem means is that she misses you too, but she doesn’t know to say it.”

A dry laugh crackled out of me. “No, she doesn’t. What Kem means is that she’s no longer the doting mother now that I’m not there to take the brunt of of her bad temper.” I put ice into my gaze and voice. “But here’s the catch: she isn’t my mother anymore. I’m not going back and she wouldn’t take me in if I did. So, you’re going to have to learn how to handle it or come up with a different solution.”

Adley snapped, “Mother isn’t being mean to us!”

“Oh?” Then realization hit me and I glared at her. “You always were the favorite.”

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Mother rewards good behavior.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Mother wants us to learn the healer’s craft,” Kem pouted.

I wasn’t moved to pity. “Then learn it.”

Anger flashed across his face. “But then no one will want to play with us!”

I shrugged. “You’ll deal with it. I did.”

Adley wasn’t done with her earlier tactic. “Mother cares about you. If you just came with us and she saw you—”

“No.” They paled at the vehemence in my voice. I continued, “Don’t pretend we’re a family that cares. I’m a failed result to her, that’s it. And you never helped me, so I see no reason to help you.” Adley started to say something else but I cut her off. “Leave.”

They left.

After their faces fell into their mother’s second, brooding look of disappointment.

--

Grandmother was true to her word. The day after my temper snapped when I found Old Lily yet again waiting for me outside the latrine to help me walk back to the tent and I forced my legs to carry me back without her help, Grandmother took me to the Skinning Cave. While the cave took its name from one of the basic tasks the huntresses did there I would learn that it was also the hub of escape and tribe politics for the huntresses. I wasn’t allowed to eavesdrop there much as my “life-ridden presence” disturbed them. It was also prettier than I expected to be. Swirling patches of black and green lichen decorated the cave’s walls and ceiling, and the huntresses had carved dozens and dozens of statues of the goddess and different animals. They were all charcoal dyed antler and the statues watched from every reachable ledge in the cave. The smell of blood that hung the air was as I imagined it though.

The huntresses’ easy chatter and movement fell quiet at our approach. I could tell that their unease and reproach was from more than their recognition of me, healer’s beads clinking with every step. This was their space and we had come without an invitation. By the time we stopped a few feet from a huntress who had been carving a spear at the mouth of the cave I had come to two conclusions. The first was that I was still in no condition to learn how to hunt or even skin a rabbit. The fifteen minute walk had left me feeling hazy and weak. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep standing through sheer force of will.

The second conclusion was about who held the most power in the cave. Two women caught my attention. There was one who everyone looked to and one who everyone actively avoided looking at. The first woman had been practicing with her sling outside the cave while a group of admirers gathered around her. She was a tall brunette who swaggered with authority. The second woman had been repairing a trap further into the cave. She had shorter, darker brown hair and her clothing looked more worn. I had never spoken to either of them, but I knew who they were. Fenris and Rawley. Levain had patched both of them up on more than one occasion.

Grandmother surveyed the gathered huntresses before placing a hand on my shoulder. “Who will guide this girl in passing her Rite?”

Outraged murmurs and gestures erupted. The spear carver glared at my beads. “Healers don’t learn our ways, Grandmother.”

Grandmother’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “She might still wear her beads but her mother forsook her and she isn’t practicing the craft. Gimlea is no healer.”

Fenris brushed her ponytail back over her shoulder and sniffed loudly. “She reeks of herbs. We don’t need her kind here. Her presence alone could ruin a hunt if the goddess noticed her.”

Grandmother rolled her eyes. “The goddess doesn’t watch your every hunt, Fenris. And, like I said, she’s no healer. She has the same amount of life in her as you do.”

Fenris scoffed, “Not as long as she wears those beads, she doesn’t.” Various voices chimed in agreement at her statement. Bolstered by the support she added, “Take her away, Grandmother, before she impedes our work further.”

Grandmother shot her a quelling look. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I wiped away your shit and piss when you were a babe, girl.”

Fenris looked as if she had been slapped for a moment, before I could see her gearing up for a rant. “I will not stand—”

“I will guide her, Grandmother.”

My gaze snapped from Fenris to where the new speaker stood at the cave’s mouth. Rawley. Grandmother cocked her head in a silent question. Rawley gave a short, sharp nod in return.

Grandmother shoved me forward in her direction. “Rawley will be your mentor, girl. Go with her and return to the tent once you’ve completed your tasks for the day.”

Fenris glared at Rawley. “You can’t do that.”

Rawley smiled at her. It looked sympathetic. “I don’t belong to your Pack.” Then she turned to me. “Follow me.”

She started making her way north along the bluffs’ base. I cast one last look around at the other huntresses and saw that this was going to be the one and only chance I got. So I took it and followed her.